


Honey

by ItsJustALittleRain (MortalCyn)



Series: It Started Out With A Kiss [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Drinking, Drinking & Talking, First Kiss, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Mild Language, Not Canon Compliant, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 13:26:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11186049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MortalCyn/pseuds/ItsJustALittleRain
Summary: A night of whiskey drinking and candid conversation leads to a minor lapse in judgement. Blame it on the alcohol.





	Honey

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've ever written for Supernatural, and I don't have a beta reader yet, so if you see a mistake, please let me know! All feedback is greatly appreciated.
> 
> This story is the first in a series that explores the formation of a romantic (for them anyway) relationship between Castiel and Dean. Not canon-compliant. If I had to set it on the timeline, it would be in season 12, if there were no British Men of Letters.

They had spent too much. When cash was that hard to come by, you didn’t just go and drop a few hundred bucks at the liquor store like some kid with a fake ID, trying to impress a bunch of girls at a high school party. Dean knew better. He really did. But it wasn’t every day where you finished a job six years in the making, and money was meant to be enjoyed. 

Sam hadn’t protested much as he watched Dean count out the stack of bills for the store clerk, and he had barely even raised an eyebrow at his choice of drinks. But once they made it back to the bunker he finally decided to give voice to his reservations. “I don’t know about this Dean.”

Dean shot his brother a look of amusement. “What’s wrong? You scared we’re all gonna get plastered and start sharing our feelings? I thought you were a fan of that kind of crap.”

“No, I just don’t know if we should really be including Cas in this,” Sam replied, trying to keep his voice low in case the angel was already within earshot. “You remember what happened the last time he got drunk.”

“First of all,” Dean started. “Millionaires, we ain’t. We don’t even have enough in this entire place to get an angel plastered, especially not Cas. Second, he was going through a tough time then, what with his dad abandoning him, and all that has been fixed, they’re practically _besties_ now. And lastly… lighten up Sammy. It’ll be fun.” He yelled down the hall. “Hey Cas! Get your feathery ass in here, will you?”

Castiel fixed Dean with a look of long-suffering annoyance as he entered the room. “Dean, I have already told you on multiple occasions. Addressing me by name is sufficient. There is no need to reference my feathers, or my ass for that matter.”

Sam bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

Dean rolled his eyes. “It got you in here, didn’t it? Anyway, pull up a chair. We’re celebrating.”

Castiel walked around the table, his curiosity piqued despite Dean’s lack of tact. “Celebrating what?”

“Tying up loose ends,” Dean replied.

“A couple years ago we had a run-in with a tribe of Amazons,” Sam explained. “They were cross-breeding with human men to grow their ranks, and then sending the newly born daughters to slaughter their fathers.” He nodded towards Dean. “This one here almost got murdered by his own kid.”

Castiel stared at Dean, taken aback. “I didn’t know that you had a daughter. Why have you never mentioned her?”

“She’s long dead, Cas.” Dean shrugged. “Besides, she wasn’t really mine. I mean she was, technically I helped make her, but it’s not like I actually knew her. I just had a one-time hookup with her mom, and then two days later, I’ve got a teenage girl in my motel room who claims I’m her dad, but she wants to chop off my hands and feet. Anyway, Sam shot her.”

Castiel stared at Sam, eyebrow raised.

“Only because you were going to let her escape,” Sam said defensively, not at all appreciating the judgmental look being aimed in his direction. “I did it, because I knew you couldn’t.”

“The point of this fascinating little trip down memory lane,” Dean continued, “is that tonight we finally finished the job. We found a lead on some suspicious male deaths. Lo and behold, it was our old, so very old friends back to their usual tricks. Having learned from our past mistakes, we managed to catch them all off guard this time, and wiped out the whole damn tribe. No more one-night stands turned Benihana. The Amazons have been officially cancelled.” He smirked. “Well, except for Wonder Woman.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

Castiel tilted his head to the side. “Alright... And this is cause for a celebration?”

“Dean certainly thinks so,” Sam replied. “Now that he’s finally off the hook for two days of back child support.”

“Damn right,” Dean said. “So pull up a chair already, both of you. It’s Miller time.” He set the brown paper bags on the table. “Or rather, Jim, Jack, and Johnnie time.” He pulled out three bottles and lined them up in a row. “Pick your poison.”

“No thank you,” Castiel replied, shaking his head. “If it is alright with the two of you, I will abstain from the festivities.”

“Come on Cas! Have a drink with us,” Dean insisted. “It’s not every day we tie up a loose end this big. Make an exception, just this once.”

“Dean I honestly don’t see the point,” Castiel argued. “It all tastes like structured chemicals to me. I don’t get the same enjoyment out of it that the two of you do. I might as well be drinking plain water. I would prefer water, in fact.”

“We know,” Sam replied. He reached into the bag and pulled out one more glass bottle filled with a golden liquid. “But we picked up something that we think you might actually like.” He slid the bottle across the table to Castiel. “Here you go.”

Castiel picked up the bottle and turned it over in his hands, inspecting its contents. He couldn’t help feeling slightly intrigued by the image of a bumble bee on the label. “I’m still not entirely convinced, but it was very thoughtful of you to buy something for me. I know that your funds are usually quite limited. Thank you, Sam.”

Dean bristled.

Sam inclined his head towards his brother. “You should probably be thanking Dean. He’s the one who picked it out. I didn’t even notice it was there.”

“It has honey in it,” Dean cut in. “Me and Sammy know how much you love the bees. So have a drink with us and support the bees, alright?”

Castiel sighed. “Very well. I will drink this for the bees.” He unceremoniously twisted the top off the bottle and raised it to his lips.

Dean pushed his hand down. “Hey! You can’t just go chugging the whole thing by yourself!” He gestured towards the table. “We don’t even have any glasses yet. Hold your horses, I’ll be right back.” He shot a look at Sam, and walked off towards the kitchen.

Sam gave Castiel a sheepish grin. “You know Dean. He’s got his own way of doing things.”

Castiel looked contemplative. “He does indeed.” He placed the bottle carefully onto the table.

Sam sat down and leaned forward in his chair. “Could you do something for me Cas?”

Castiel sat down and looked at Sam expectantly. “Of course Sam. What is it?”

Sam lowered his voice. “Don’t let him get too drunk tonight, okay? None of us are as young as we used to be, but Dean still tries to drink like he’s 21. If he doesn’t watch it, he’s going to be a complete wreck tomorrow. Just keep an eye on him, and if he starts to get too far gone, cut him off.”

Castiel furrowed his brows. “Aren’t you going to partake as well?”

Sam laughed. “I definitely am. But I still need to get up early for my run, so I’m not going to drink too much. To be honest, I’m pretty beat already, but Dean _really_ wanted to celebrate tonight, and you should’ve seen the way his eyes lit up once he saw that bottle of honey bourbon—” Sam abruptly shut his mouth when he heard the clink of glasses.

Dean walked back into the room, carrying three short glasses in one hand and a small bowl in the other. “Alright, let’s get this party started.” He set the glasses down on the table. Then he slid one across to Castiel and another across to Sam.

Sam groaned. “Dude, did you have to carry them like that? You had your fingers all down off in them and I seriously doubt you even washed your hands since we got back.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Since when are you a germaphobe? Relax Sam. I don’t have cooties. Besides, alcohol is sterile.” 

“What are those?” Castiel asked, peering into the bowl. It contained several dark granite cubes. He could feel the coldness radiating off of them.

Dean grinned. “Whiskey stones!”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up, grudgingly impressed in spite of himself. “When did you get whiskey stones?”

Dean nodded smugly. “I know, classy right? I found them on sale a while back. I’ve been saving them for a special occasion.”

Sam shook his head and laughed. “For Christ’s sake Dean, it was just a bunch of monsters. It’s not like we saved the world again.”

“See Sam, that’s your problem. You gotta learn to take time to savor the small victories. A messy win is still a win.” He reached over and plunked a handful of the stones into each glass. “Fellas, or should I say… Gentlemen, pour up.” 

 

Together they finished the bottle of Jim Beam, and made it over halfway through the bottle of Jack Daniels before Sam called it quits, citing his early morning run. He ignored Dean’s eyeroll and muttered remarks about not being able to hang, and instead gave Castiel a pointed look, before heading off to bed.

Dean didn’t miss a beat. “What was that?” he asked the angel.

Castiel’s face was perfectly blank. “I don’t know.”

Dean rolled his eyes again. “Whatever. Keep your secrets then.” He pulled the half-empty bottle over and filled his glass. “More for me anyway. Unless you’d like some?” He offered the bottle.

Castiel shook his head and nodded towards his own glass. “I’m alright, thank you.”

Dean glanced at Castiel’s drink. “I’ve been meaning to ask, how is it?”

Castiel slid his glass across the table.

Dean shook his head. “No thanks, Cas.”

Castiel’s lips quirked just the tiniest bit. “What’s wrong Dean? I don’t have cooties. Besides, didn’t you say earlier that alcohol is sterile?”

 _Son of a bitch._ Dean tried to think up a snarky rebuttal, but his brain was just beginning to get that warm fuzzy feeling, thoughts blurring lightly around the edges. He sighed in resignation. “Well, I guess you got me there.” He carefully picked up the glass of honey infused bourbon whiskey and took a sip. It was shockingly sweet, yet not entirely unpleasant. He set the glass down and slid it back over to Cas. “Not bad. Not something that I would ever buy personally, but to each his own.”

“But you did buy it,” Castiel reminded him.

Dean let out an irritated breath. “Well yeah, but I bought it for _you_. Not for me.” He drew a long swig from his own glass, letting the burn wash away any sugary remnants. “I don’t even really know _why_ I bought it, to tell you the truth. Didn’t know if you’d even be here tonight. You don’t come around all that much since they left.” He glanced at Cas. “How are things going with you these days anyway?”

Castiel sighed. “I assume you mean, how are things in Heaven? I can assure you, there will be no repeat of the occurrences which ensued the last time I assumed control. Things are quite different now. The young ones are capable of free thought, as you know, and highly adaptive.” He casually took a sip from his glass. “My older brothers and sisters are not entirely sure what to make of them. Of course, they are not entirely sure what to make of me either.” He shook his head. “It’s all rather strange.”

Dean’s eyes roamed over Cas as he talked, trying to see if he could discern any notable physical changes in his friend. The realization that some form of order needed to be provided aside from simply abandoning humanity again to its own devices, had prompted God to alter his second-most rebellious son, creating one last archangel and using his original grace to give life to a new crop of angels, the first step in replenishing the heavenly host which had been tragically depleted due to infighting and corruption. In return for the power, Castiel was tasked with maintaining order in Heaven indefinitely, a directive that did not appeal to him in the slightest, but one that he understood was the key to his redemption for past acts. 

Castiel cast a sideways glance at Dean, sensing the hunter was staring at him.

Dean averted his eyes. “Well yeah, but I didn’t ask how it was going in Heaven. I asked how it was going with _you_.”

Castiel tilted his head to the side, a gesture which never failed to remind Dean of simpler times. “I’m fine.” He gave Dean another small smirk. “You do not have to worry about me going dark Superman again, if that particular thought is keeping you awake at night.”

“Yeah right. Cas, you’d be the last thing keeping me awake at night,” Dean retorted.

Castiel raised an eyebrow.

Dean cringed inwardly. _That didn’t come out right at all. Never try to be witty when you’re half drunk._ “What I meant was, I’m not concerned about that. I just wanted to know if you’re happy. That’s all.”

Castiel considered. “I am not unhappy, if that makes sense. I admit, it is rather interesting, the sensation of being remade. Despite the change I still feel like myself, even more so.” He shook his head. “And yet, it is so odd when I see my former grace reflected back at me from the eyes of my young charges. There are so many of them, and they all have the exact same eyes, full of questions, eager for answers. I just hope that I can guide them.”

Dean sighed and raised his glass. “Kids, huh? Can’t live with em, can’t live without em.” He took a sip of his drink. “Although I guess some of us don’t have that problem.”

Castiel stared down into the liquid amber in his glass. “Dean.”

“Yeah?”

Cas looked up, his blue eyes searching Dean’s face as he carefully measured his words. “I am very sorry about what happened with your daughter.”

Dean laughed drily, trying not to dwell on the look he was receiving. “Thanks Cas. She may have been a literal teenage monster who tried to kill me, but she was probably the only kid I’ll ever get to have, so…” He raised his glass. “Let’s drink to her memory. To Emma.”

Castiel raised his glass. “To Emma.”

They drank, the whiskey stones clinking lightly.

Castiel resumed gazing at Dean. “Do you honestly believe that she was the only child that you will ever have?”

Dean sighed. “There was a time where I might’ve felt differently, but you know… After the way things worked out with Lisa and Ben… Not to mention the shit I went through with the mark, becoming a demon, almost ending the world…” He filled his glass again. “Let’s just say, I don’t see myself ending up with a traditional family. You and Sam are my family, and I’m good with that. Really good. As long as I’ve got the two of you around, I don’t feel bad about not being a husband or a father. Hunters don’t get that luxury.” He took a long swig. 

“Is that all there is?” Castiel asked, watching as Dean finished off the rest of the Jack, and opened the final bottle. “With Heaven brought to order, Hell will eventually follow… even if I have to set it to rights myself,” he said, eyes flashing briefly. “What else will there be for you, once the balance has been restored?”

Dean drummed his fingers absently on the tabletop. “The same thing there was before I ever even knew you guys existed.” He hummed softly for a moment. “You know Cas, I spent most of my life hunting monsters, not demons, and definitely not angels. Regardless of what goes up or what goes down, there will always be something…” He waved his hand.

“That goes bump in the night?” Castiel offered, giving a tiny smile.

“Damn right!” Dean said, laughing. “Look at that. We’re already finishing each other’s sentences. But yeah, at the end of the day, there will always be something nasty on Earth hurting people, and so I’ll handle it. It’s what I do, it’s what I’m good at.”

Castiel met Dean’s gaze. “Very well. Although, I’m fairly certain that hunting is not the only thing that you’re good at.”

Dean blinked. The temperature in the room seemed to rise by several degrees. He was really starting to feel it now, his muscles were comfortably loose, and he knew he would be more relaxed if he could just stop reading too much into things. “Cas, do me a favor would you? Lose the coat and jacket. I feel like I’m about to get audited man, and I don’t even pay taxes. It’s killing my buzz.”

Castiel pushed his chair back and stood up. He was aware of Dean’s eyes following his movement as he carefully placed his coat and jacket on Sam’s vacant chair. He wondered if now was a good time to cut the hunter off. He still seemed reasonably in control of his faculties, but there was a certain undercurrent to his voice that hadn’t been there before, Cas was sure of it. He sat back down in his chair and eyed Dean speculatively.

“Dude. Again?” Dean sighed. “What’s with that look?”

“Nothing,” Castiel answered. He took a sip of his drink. It really was rather pleasant, as far as alcohol went. “What a fascinating concept. Mixing food with spirits within the bottle.”

Dean grunted. “It ain’t all good, pal. Let me tell you, there are some truly foul combinations out there. Believe me when I say that pickle flavored vodka is not a thing that should exist.” He shuddered. “Can I ask you a question?”

Castiel gave Dean a slight smirk. “You just did.” 

“Smartass,” Dean muttered, knowing that he would’ve seen that one coming if he wasn’t already so buzzed. “I’m asking another one. Why don’t you ever wear any other clothes? If you want, we can take you shopping at Goodwill. Let you pick out some stuff.”

Castiel shook his head. “That is not necessary.”

“I didn’t say it was necessary,” Dean shot back, pouring the new whiskey into his glass. “I just wondered if you ever get tired of wearing the same thing all the time. It’s a classic look, I’ll give you that, but trends do change, man.”

“It is not something that I think about… All the same, I find these clothes comfortable and practical. They have been with me so long, I may have become somewhat attached,” Castiel confessed. “Why do you ask? Does my wearing the same thing for so long truly bother you?” He looked at Dean. “Would you prefer to see me in something else?”

Dean flushed. “No man. I just… never mind. Forget it. Cheers to you, oh holy tax accountant.” He raised his glass to his lips and took a sip. His eyes widened. “Fuck me, that is smooth,” he breathed appreciatively. He stared in amazement at the bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label. “I see now why this stuff costs an arm and a leg. Sam is gonna be so pissed that he missed out.” He slid his glass across the table. “Come on Cas, you gotta at least try this one. Please.”

Castiel eyed the glass suspiciously. “It’s not the pickle drink, is it?”

Dean shook his head, his mind humming pleasantly. “No… it’s not. Just try it, okay?”

Castiel raised the glass to his lips and took a long drink, wanting to see if he could decipher what it was about this particular beverage that fascinated the hunter so greatly.

Dean watched him swallow, mesmerized and trying his best not to stare.

Castiel wrinkled his nose and slid the glass back to Dean. “I suppose it’s acceptable. I prefer mine. You chose correctly in selecting it. You know me well.”

“Yeah, maybe not half as well as I’d like sometimes,” Dean mumbled, not realizing that he had actually verbalized his thoughts.

Castiel’s eyebrows shot up.

Dean paled. “Did I say that aloud?” He grimaced. “Fuck, I said that aloud too… You know what? I’m just gonna shut up for the rest of the night.” He went to fill his glass again, his fingers shaking ever so slightly. _What the hell is my problem?_

“Dean,” Castiel said warningly. He reached out a hand to steady his friend’s grip on the bottle. 

Dean jerked his hand away, causing the glass to overfill. “Fuck…” He ignored the now obvious scrutiny in Cas’ stare. “I’m good, Cas. I swear.” He set the bottle down and reached for his glass with both hands. “Shit,” he muttered, trying to keep any more of the whiskey from spilling. He gulped his drink back quickly, barely feeling the burn, it went down so fast. He plunked his empty glass down on the table and raised his damp fingers to his lips. _Stuff’s way too expensive to waste._ He hurriedly licked the remaining drops of whiskey off his hands, swirling his tongue around his fingertips. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Castiel shift almost imperceptibly in his chair, his pupils dilated.

Dean froze. _The hell was that?_

Castiel quickly looked away, contemplating the next course of action and trying not to dwell on what he had just seen. After a long moment, he sighed and poured the rest of the honey bourbon into his own glass. This was it. He was cutting Dean off after the next drink whether the hunter insisted he was good or not. _Sam really should not have entrusted this task to me._

Dean watched the angel tilt the glass back, the honeyed liquid flowing easily past his lips. He noticed the way his pale throat worked, and felt a sudden uncontrollable need to swallow. He hurriedly filled his own glass again, mindful not to over-pour this time. He tossed it back in one long gulp, far past the point of enjoying it, just wanting to chase his errant thoughts away. He moved to set the glass on the table.

It slammed down just a little too hard. The whiskey stones bounced over the rim and scattered across the table.

Castiel stood up, glad that this mishap had made things easier for him. “Alright Dean. That’s clearly enough for tonight. Come on.” He extended his hand. “And don’t try to tell me that you’re good. You obviously are not.”

Dean let out a sigh and stared at Castiel’s hand for a long moment before reaching out. His fingers were incredibly warm and strong. Dean felt almost weightless as Cas helped him to his feet. “Whoa.” He swayed and grabbed onto the back of his chair with his other hand to steady himself. “Guess I had a little more than I should’ve.”

“I believe that statement is accurate,” Castiel replied. He placed his arm around Dean and gently began to guide the hunter towards the hallway. “Let’s go. I’ll help you to your room.”

Dean gestured towards the table, almost stumbling in the process. “It’s a mess… Sam gonna flip his shit… We gotta clean this up.”

Castiel tightened his grip on Dean. “I will take care of it. Come on.” He steered Dean out of the room.

The hallway lights seemed impossibly bright now, much more so than the ones in the other room. Dean turned his face away hurriedly, burrowing against his friend’s neck.

Castiel froze, his eyes closing for the briefest moment. He steadfastly ignored Dean’s breath against his skin, focusing solely on getting him further down the hall. Only a few steps more and he would be relieved of his human charge.

Dean inhaled deeply, blissfully unaware of his friend’s ongoing mental struggle. _Wow..._ The scent was like the woods, if the woods had been recently scrubbed clean of everything except the smell of trees, soil, running water, and fresh air. He smelled like pure raw materials, the building blocks of the very earth itself. Like the air right after a thunderstorm. “Damn Cas, you smell amazing,” Dean mumbled. “Dunno why I never noticed before.”

“Thank you Dean,” Castiel replied quietly, trying inconspicuously to put some distance between them.

“Did you always smell this good?” Dean turned his face inward again, wanting to get another whiff.

Castiel leaned away, mildly exasperated. “Dean. Stop that, you’re drunk. I’m trying to get you to bed, but I need you to work with me. Can you do that?”

Dean laughed as though Castiel had just said the most hilarious thing he’d ever heard. “Get me to bed? Yeah right... You think just cause I had a few, I’ll let you have your way with me?”

Castiel sighed, drawing upon his seemingly infinite reserves of patience. _Perhaps I should knock him out and drag him._ “You know perfectly well that is not what I meant.”

Dean could feel the frustration brewing up inside of him at Cas’ utter lack of interest in even humoring his attempt at banter. _Son of a bitch didn’t even crack a smile. Always so fucking above it all... Why won’t you just… feel something dammit!_ He grabbed onto the front of Castiel’s shirt and pulled him in close until their faces were barely an inch apart. Blue eyes stared back at him incredulously. 

Without stopping to think about why or what if, or anything else at all, Dean kissed him. He was at once struck by how sweet Cas tasted. Like pure, warm, sugar. _Is that an angel thing?_ Then he remembered the bourbon. He couldn’t help the shudder that coursed through him as he sucked the taste of the honey bourbon from Cas’ tongue. _Damn, that’s good._ Dean knew he wasn’t doing his best work here. It was sloppy, he was rushing, he had none of his usual technique or finesse, but it felt so gratifying. _A messy win was still a win._ He didn’t even want to come up for air. His fingers tightened into the shirt’s fabric. 

Castiel gently yet firmly placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder and pushed him back.

Dean was stunned by the breathless whine that escaped him at the sudden separation. He leaned heavily against the wall, fully expecting to slump to the floor without his friend’s support. When his feet felt suspiciously steady beneath him, he stared back at Cas with slow dawning horror. _I’m sobering up..._ “What the fuck,” he murmured.

“My sentiments exactly,” Castiel said quietly. He looked at Dean, genuine concern evident in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

Dean’s face was burning now that the realization of what he had just done had set in. _I drunk kissed Cas. I didn’t just cross the line, I torpedoed it._ He rubbed at his eyes. “Um, I’m good. Really. I guess I should’ve quit while I was ahead.” He groaned inwardly. “The drinking, I mean. I should’ve stopped a long while ago.” _At least before I tried to make out with my best friend in the hallway._ He averted his eyes. “Anyway, thanks for the assist. I, uh, I got it from here.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and quickly walked the rest of the way to his bedroom.

Castiel watched Dean’s retreat, his expression pensive.

Dean tried not to slam the bedroom door. He let out a groan of frustration as he flopped down onto his mattress, his mind somehow painfully clear, and his thoughts racing. _How the hell am I sober right now? I sucked down more booze than a frat boy in Cancun._ He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought. _It had to have been Cas’ mojo. His angelic whatever, must’ve zapped the alcohol away. That’s why his mouth tasted so damn sweet! All the bourbon burned up and just left the honey._ “No wonder it’s so hard to get the bastard drunk,” he muttered.

 

Despite having a fitful night’s sleep, Dean got out of bed as soon as his alarm went off. The sooner he could start his day and bury himself in work, the sooner he could forget that last night even happened. He emerged from his room anxiously, hoping that he wouldn’t run into Cas until he had his poker face back. _So much for him not keeping me awake at night. What even was that?_ He was thankful to only see Sam, already back from his run and eating breakfast in the kitchen.

“Hey,” Sam said, clearly startled by his brother’s presence before noon. “I really didn’t expect to see you up and about this early.”

Dean shot him a look. “Well, I’m up.” He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down across from Sam. “Try not to look so amazed, Sammy. You’re not the only responsible adult around here.” He raised his cup to his lips.

“Right,” Sam scoffed. “I guess I should be thanking Cas.”

Dean almost choked on his coffee. “Thanking him for what?!”

Sam eyed his brother strangely. “For not letting you get too drunk. I asked him to shut you down if you got out of hand. I was afraid he might have to carry you to your bed.”

Dean’s face flamed. 

Sam raised both eyebrows. “Are you okay? You look pretty spooked right now.”

Dean forced himself to calmly take a long swig of coffee. It was still way too hot but he drank it down resolutely. After a few moments he looked up again, his mouth steaming. “I’m fine,” he said. He fixed his face with what he hoped was a perfectly neutral expression. “Where’s the angel anyway? Sleeping it off?”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. He was already gone before I got up. How did it go last night?”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, gripping his coffee mug just a little harder than necessary.

Sam shrugged. “I mean, _how did it go?_ You guys must’ve stayed at it for a while since you managed to drink every damn thing. I still can't believe you're even functioning right now. Anything interesting happen after I left?”

“Nope,” Dean replied calmly. “We drank for a bit, then I went to bed, and that was all. End of story.”

“Thanks for cleaning up after yourselves by the way,” Sam said. “But you could’ve at least left me _some_ of the Blue Label. That bottle cost a hundred and eighty bucks. That was my money too, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “I did. There was over half a bottle left when I went to bed, I swear.” He blinked, sudden realization dawning. “Cas must’ve finished it off.”

Sam looked taken aback. “Really? Huh. I didn’t think that he would like the taste...” He shrugged, still slightly disappointed. “Oh well. I guess he must’ve enjoyed it after all.”

Dean’s mind briefly drifted back to last night, the flavor of honey still on his tongue as he finally dozed off to sleep. “Guess so.”


End file.
